Uhtred the Bold

by H A CULLEY

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of my men, a youngster called Wictred, kill his opponent and then run deep into the wood. The next moment I found myself confronted by two Danes. I blocked the blow from one sword with my shield and parried the other with my sword. I was hard pressed but I was holding my own against them. However, just as I had wounded one and the other was tiring, I felt a blow to my back. I was aware of the links of my chain mail parting and of something striking by backbone; I fell to the ground. I tried to get up but I couldn’t move, and then the pain hit me. It was so great that I screamed in agony but then, mercifully, the pain receded and I felt everything becoming dim and distant.

  After that there was only blackness.

  Epilogue

  Late March 1016 to Spring 1017

  Uuen watched in horror from his vantage point in the tree as Uhtred was stabbed in the back by Thurbrand. As he collapsed to the ground the Dane thrust his blade into his master’s back again and again until one of his own men pulled him away. Uuen watched in despair as one by one Uhtred’s housecarls were killed until eventually there wasn’t one left alive. However, he’d seen Wictred fight his way clear and then pause to look back before disappearing further into the wood.

  He couldn’t make his mind up whether the boy, at sixteen the youngest of Uhtred’s household warriors, was a coward or had decided his duty was to survive to tell the tale. He knew Wictred a little and, after thinking about it, Uuen concluded that Wictred hadn’t run because he was afraid. He too was determined to find his way back to Northumbria to let everyone know of the treacherous ambush, but he would have to wait until it was safe to descend from the tree.

  It didn’t take long for the Danes to strip the bodies of everything of value, including their byrnies, drag the bodies to the river and throw them in, to be carried downstream towards the Humber and thence out to sea. Half an hour after Uhtred had been killed Uuen was running north back the way they’d come that day. He reached the ferry just as it was about to depart to take a solitary passenger across. He recognised Wictred and the two embraced, both happy the other had survived. Neither spoke of what had happened as they were rowed to the other side; it was all too raw. The slaying of Earl Uhtred had seemed unreal to both of them at first, but by the time they reached the place where they’d left the birlinn the next day his death had sunk in.

  The ship was still there and it took a while for them to relate their tale to those who had remained with it. Everyone looked over at the Danes on the far bank but they sat around laughing and joking, seemingly having no interest in the ship and what was left of its crew.

  The four men managed to turn the craft around using the oars and, with a wind from the south east, the boys hoisted the mainsail to take them upriver. Uuen prayed that the wind would stay in that direction so that they could continue up the east coast under sail; there weren’t nearly enough of them to propel the heavy ship by rowing.

  ‘Should we return to York?’ Wictred asked the shipmaster.

  ‘We should get back to Bebbanburg and tell the Lady Ælfgifu what has happened,’ Uuen cut in before the man could reply.

  The shipmaster nodded.

  ‘Yes, that would be best.’

  ~~~

  At the end of March the following year Eadwulf rode up to the gates of Bebbanburg. Cnut had been furious when he found out the reason for Uhtred’s failure to appear and submit to him. Consequently he hadn’t appointed Eadwulf to succeed his brother but instead had made Eric Håkonsson Earl of Northumbria.

  Thurbrand too was in disfavour but he’d been allowed to succeed his father, Styr, when he died in the winter of 1016. Eventually Cnut had relented and allowed Eadwulf to become Earl of Bernicia, but he would be subservient to Eric. He felt cheated but he had to accept Cnut’s decision.

  As Eadwulf neared the mighty fortress his scouts returned to tell him that a birlinn had just set sail from Budle Bay. He cursed. He had no doubt that it contained the nephews he’d sworn to kill, along with Ælfgifu and her baby daughters. Uhtred’s death had done much to assuage the black rage that had consumed him ever since his enforced exile but he wouldn’t be happy until he’d exterminated all of his brother’s brood.

  Much to his annoyance the gates remained firmly shut in his face; moreover Uhtred’s banner of the black wolf’s head on a blood red field still flew over the stronghold. Eadwulf used the same device but on a yellow background, as had his father and countless lords of Bebbanburg before him.

  ‘Open in the name of King Cnut and Eadwulf, Earl of Bernicia,’ the new earl’s captain of housecarls called out.

  Edmund Ironside had fought on after his father’s death but with little success. Eventually he and Cnut had signed a treaty whereby Edmund was allowed to keep Wessex but Cnut became ruler of Mercia, East Anglia and Northumbria. When Edmund had died the previous November in mysterious circumstances Cnut was acknowledged as King of the English and had just been crowned as such in London.

  ‘Greetings Earl Eadwulf, we welcome you as the brother of Earl Uhtred,’ a voice called back.

  ‘It’s not much of a welcome when you keep the gates of my fortress shut against me. Now, open them immediately or face the consequences.’

  ‘We will, of course, just as soon as we have your assurance that no harm will befall any who are inside Bebbanburg.’

  ‘Who has the temerity to impose conditions on me,’ Eadwulf shouted back, now getting furious at the delay.

  ‘My name is Horsa. I am the captain of the fortress’s garrison,’ the voice replied.

  ‘Not for much longer,’ Eadwulf muttered to himself.

  ‘Very well, Horsa. Open the gates. I swear I mean no harm to those who reside within. Those who are content to swear an oath of loyalty to me may stay; the rest may depart in peace.’

  ‘Thank you, lord Eadwulf.’

  The gates creaked open and the earl and his housecarls rode through the gates and up to the area in front of the hall. There they dismounted and stable boys came running to take their horses away.

  Eadwulf stood in front of Horsa as the latter bent the knee to him.

  ‘You may rise, Horsa. Get your men to surrender their weapons to my housecarls please.’

  ‘Why lord?’ Horsa asked looking puzzled.

  ‘Because I say so. Are you questioning my orders?’

  Eadwulf’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

  ‘No, of course not. Do as the earl says,’ he said, turning to his men.

  Once the last weapons had been collected Eadwulf grunted in relief. His men and Horsa’s were roughly equal in number and he had been worried about a fight where the outcome was uncertain.

  ‘Good, now kneel again and bend your neck.’

  Horsa did as he was bid, thinking that the earl was about to ask for his oath. Instead Eadwulf drew his sword and brought it down on Horsa’s neck. It was meant to be a killing blow and he’d expected to see the man’s head bounce away, but it lacked power and his aim was poor. Instead of striking his head from his torso, the sword cut part way into the junction of head and neck and was halted by Horsa’s collar bone.

  He cried out in pain and then staggered to his feet, blood spurting spasmodically from the wound. His men were horrified and stood there stunned for a moment, but then they uttered a howl of rage and, despite the fact that they had no weapons, they attacked Eadwulf’s housecarls, tearing swords and spears from the surprised men’s grasp. The fight that Eadwulf had been desperate to avoid was happening all the same.

  Realising that he was the target of Horsa’s warriors’ fury, he hastily ran into the hall and told the servants to bar the doors. He cowered inside until one of his housecarls told him that it was safe to come out, not without a trace of derision in his voice.

  Horsa and half of his men lay dead and the rest had been subdued and were being tied up. Eadwulf had also lost over a third of his housecarls.

  ‘Execute them,’ he screamed at the captain of his men.

  ‘No, lord. You
promised them that they could depart unharmed,’ the housecarl replied firmly.

  ‘But they attacked you and tried to kill me!’

  ‘Only because you broke your word and tried to kill Horsa.’

  Eadwulf looked around at his housecarls and quailed at the mixture of derision, distaste and outright defiance that he saw there.

  ‘Very well. The man is dead anyway. Take their byrnies and helmets and escort them out of the fortress.’

  He knew he was being weak but he didn’t know what else to do. He turned on his heel and stomped back into the hall in a furious mood, striking an unfortunate boy who happened to be within reach as he did so. The boy was thrown back and his head collided with the edge of a table, killing him instantly.

  The female servants ran and cowered in a corner. They knew of his reputation and wondered which of them the new earl would take to his bed that night. Whoever it was wouldn’t be in for a session of pleasant lovemaking.

  Eadwulf slumped down into what had been his father’s chair. This was not the homecoming that he’d dreamt of.

  ~~~

  Aldred stood in the stern of the birlinn with his hand around Eadulf’s shoulder as they watched the distant shoreline fade into the distance. The stronghold of Bebbanburg stood high above the sea below, dominating the coast. Below them under a makeshift awning made of a piece of sailcloth Ælfgifu tried to comfort Ealdgyth who, at eighteen months didn’t understand what was happening, but was old enough to pick up on the sombre mood surrounding her. Baby Ælfthryth, Uhtred’s posthumous daughter, had no such concerns. All she was bothered about was sleeping and being fed.

  ‘Will we ever return, Aldred,’ the younger boy asked sadly.

  ‘Of course we will. And when I do, I’ll kill Thurbrand myself. That I swear on our father’s unburied corpse.’

  He grew incandescent with rage every time he thought of his father’s body, along with those of his warriors, being thrown into the water for the fish to feed on.

  ‘What about uncle Eadwulf?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Uncle Eadwulf.’

  The emphasis he put on the word uncle made it sound as if it was something nasty he’d stepped in.

  ‘His treachery was the greater because he was family, but killing him is not enough. He must be made to suffer first.’

  The look of fierce determination in his brother’s eyes made Eadulf frightened. However, even at the age of ten he realised that desperately wanting something and achieving it were two entirely different things.

  To be continued in

  THE BATTLE OF CARHAM 1018

  Book II of the Earls of Northumbria Series

  Historical Note

  The end of the tenth century and the beginning of the eleventh was a time of change and uncertainty for the newly created Kingdom of England. The union of Angles, Saxons and Danes under one ruler was a fragile one, not helped by the growing power of the emerging Kingdom of Alba (Scotland) to the north and raids and incursions by the Norse and by Danes from across the North Sea.

  Æthelred, whose nickname unræd means poorly advised but which has been mistranslated as unready, had succeeded to the throne after the assassination of his older half-brother, Edward the Martyr. His brother's murder was carried out by supporters of Æthelred’s claim to the throne, although he must have been too young at the time to have had any personal involvement. Nevertheless, the manner of his accession got him off to a poor start.

  The chief problems during Æthelred's reign were conflict with the Danes and unrest at home due to his corrupt and ineffective rule. After several decades of relative peace, Danish raids on English territory began again in earnest in the 980s. Following the Battle of Maldon in 991, Æthelred paid tribute to Olaf Tryggvason, a Norwegian who I have portrayed in this story as an invader of Northumbria, though there is no evidence that he did so.

  In 1002, Æthelred is said to have ordered the St. Brice's Day massacre of Danish settlers. Whether he actually instigated the slaughter remains a question; however, he doesn’t seem to have done anything to prevent it or to punish those responsible. This xenophobic attack followed a succession of raids on Wessex by Danes from their homeland of Denmark. Any involvement by English Danes is questionable.

  In 1013, King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark invaded England, whether this was to revenge the death of his sister and her husband eleven years previously or not, it does seem to have been a serious attempt at conquest. Æthelred fled to Normandy and on Christmas Day in 1013 Sweyn was enthroned as king in his place. However, Sweyn died five weeks later and Æthelred was invited to return in early 1014 after he’d promised to rule more justly. He seems to have defeated Sweyn’s son, Cnut, quickly and he retreated to Denmark to recruit a new invasion force. It isn’t clear what happened to Sweyn’s army but perhaps they returned home rather than follow an inexperienced young man.

  Cnut returned to England in August 1015. Over the next few months, he pillaged most of England. In early 1016 Uhtred campaigned with Edmund Ironside in Cheshire and the surrounding shires. When he heard that Cnut was about to invade Northumbria Uhtred returned and quickly realised that further opposition was futile and submitted.

  Cnut summoned Uhtred to a meeting, possibly to get him to swear an oath in person. On his way there Uhtred and his escort of forty warriors were ambushed and killed by Thurbrand. It’s unclear whether he was acting on instructions from Cnut or not.

  When Æthelred died on 23 April 1016 his son, Edmund Ironside, succeeded him. It was not until the summer of 1016 that any serious fighting took place. Edmund fought five battles against the Danes, culminating in his defeat on 18 October 1016 at the Battle of Assandun. Edmund and Cnut agreed to divide the kingdom, Edmund taking Wessex and Cnut the rest of the country, but Edmund died shortly afterwards. The cause of death may have been due to wounds received in battle or disease, but it is certainly a possibility that he was murdered.

  Intent on keeping his succession secure, Cnut sent Edmund Ironside's two infant sons to his brother in Sweden with orders that they were to be quietly murdered. Instead, the princes were spared and sent to safety to the Kingdom of Hungary. Other members of Æthelred’s family, including his son Edward, later to become King Edward the Confessor, fled to Normandy. With the last of the House of Wessex in exile Cnut was now the undisputed ruler of all England and set about ruthlessly subduing any remaining pockets of opposition.

  Uhtred was succeeded in Bernicia by his brother Eadwulf Cudel. Cnut made the Norwegian, Eric of Hlathir, Earl of York, thus balancing power in the north. By so doing he might have negated any opposition to his rule amongst the traditionally independently minded Northumbrians, but lack of cohesive government did make the North much more vulnerable to attack from the Scots.

  He also killed the treacherous Eadric Streona and no replacement was appointed until Leofric, the husband of Lady Godiva, famed for riding through the streets of Coventry naked, became Earl of Mercia in 1030.

  The story of Earl Eadwulf, the Battle of Carham and the loss of Lothian, the blood feud between Uhtred’s sons and Thurbrand’s family and the last of the Earls of Northumbria will be told in subsequent novels in this series.

  NOVELS IN THE KINGS OF NORTHUMBRIA SERIES

  Whiteblade

  616 to 634 AD

  Warriors of the North

  634 to 642 AD

  Bretwalda

  642 to 656 AD

  The Power and the Glory

  656 to 670 AD

  The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith

  670 to 730 AD

  Treasons, Stratagems and Spoils

  737 to 796 AD

  The Wolf and the Raven

  821 to 862 AD

  The Sons of the Raven

  865 to 927 AD

 

 

 
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